


Quiet conversation

by WigglyBlue



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Also it does a reference a friend's oc, As you do, Autism, Autism Spectrum, But it was nice to write so I hope it's nice to read, But they just have a short little conversation about plants, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Just some old self indulgent oc fic ya know, Nothing big, Self-Indulgent, but mostly just in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WigglyBlue/pseuds/WigglyBlue
Summary: The crusader isn't quite sure about some of the Gardener's rules when it comes to the garden at the abby. But the Gardener is always willing to share his view, so long as one is willing to listen.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Quiet conversation

The garden of the abbey had become truly a garden under Rowan careful and knowable care, many of the once wilting plants that had already resided there now in bloom along with many other plants he had planted here, some giving crop, others giving soft and pleasant scents, and others just be pleasing to the eye. Reynald had started this "bonding" project with the gardener after he had accidentally caused the younger man to have a total meltdown during a quest, Fritjof having somewhat nervously suggested the idea. And it had all gone fairly well once they had gotten past a somewhat rocky start. But there was one rule Rowan had given that the crusader didn't fully understand.

That no plant would be removed unless the gardener said so. Which is what had lead Reynald to where he was now, giving an unhappy look at a clump of thistles that was easily at least 4 feet tall, which Rowan had forbidden the former farmer from getting rid of. What confused Rey, even more, was the fact that Rowan tended to it, making sure it thrived and got all that it needed to survive.

"I don't get it. Why do you give such careful care to a weed?" He finally asked out loud, being pleasantly surprised when Rowan quickly gave him an answer, though it quickly turned back to confusion.

"Because," The younger man calmly explained as he started carefully replanting some flower so that it might be able to get more sun. "What is a weed but a plant whose virtues have yet to be discovered?"

The crusader looked over at Rowan who still hadn't gotten up from his work, confusion written on Reynald's face.

"But what good could a thistle do for anybody?" He questions, honestly curious about the response he might get.

"Let's suppose your belief in the flame is true and that it made all things that are before us," Rowan finally stood, turning to look in Rey's general direction. "What would be the point in creating something that doesn't do anybody, _anything_ , any good? It just doesn't make logical sense. All things must have some purpose when it is created, even if it's simply for self-fulfillment." 

Finding a sunny spot in the garden where he could relax in the midday sun, the boy sits down, patting a spot next to him, an open invitation for the other to sit down with him for a moment.

"Let's take the other route, and say that the flame didn't create all things. If it didn't do any good at all, to nothing at all, how could it even survive? Why would anything go to its flowers, help it reproduce if one gets nothing from it? Again it makes no logical sense. It must give _something_ so that it may survive. Life is a game of give and take, and if it has nothing to give, then nothing will give _it_ anything. Stinging nettle for example. It makes a wonderful soup, my favorite food in fact. It gives to me so that I may give to it."

Letting out a sigh, Reynald sat down next to Rowan, making sure to give the gardener his space, resting an elbow on his knee so that he could cradle a cheek in his palm.

"I suppose you're right. But that still doesn't explain you don't get rid of them here. You can find pretty much all of these weeds more or less everywhere. So why let them stay here?" Rey proposed, always enjoying the quiet conversations they would sometimes have. 

It took the younger man a moment to form an answer to that, humming quietly as he got his thoughts in order.

"The best way I can answer that is with another question if you don't mind?" Rowan asked in that oddly flat voice of his, a smile twitching across his features for a brief moment when he was given a light shake of the head. "Did you ask to be born?"

That catches the knight off guard, blinking for a moment before giving the obvious answer.

"No. No, I didn't."

"Exactly." Rowan curtly replies, glancing up at the sky so he could get a rough estimate of the time.

"Neither did any of the plants here, weed or not. They were merely placed in the ground, given water, and then sprouted. They were given no choice in the matter of when and where they grew. So why should I punish another living thing for something it can't control? Punish it for living a life it didn't choose to start? So I allow it to persist, even if it gives me personally nothing back in return. So long as it stays where it belongs and puts up with my pruning so that I may attempt to prevent it from having to be removed, I shall let it stay. It deserves at least that much from me if it does me no harm. If it does other harm I shall bite my tongue and remove it, and try to put it where it won't harm anyone, which is nearly impossible. For life is _always_ give and take."

Letting out a quiet laugh, the gardener stands, having figured out it was time to start to tend to his personal garden, being more dependable when it came to the time than the church bells that attempted to ring at the hour. His routine was set as if it was in stone, always going to the same places at the same time almost no matter what he was doing or was in the middle of.

"This was a pleasant chat. Thank you for allowing me to have it." Is all the closure he gives, giving a small wave to the crusader, as he walks away, leaving as if he had never been there in the first place. Though still, Rowan’s words remained, hanging in Reynald's mind, chuckling to himself. 

The boy might not speak often but he most certainly did have a way with words, and always made any conversation he had be an interesting and thought-provoking one, a word never being wasted. And Rey did have to admit, his thoughts had been provoked. He was going to think about this for quite a while, having a newfound appreciation for that thistle plant that had started that quiet conversation.


End file.
